Upon This Green Hill
by Ganimyde
Summary: Me trying to explain Elricest to myself.  It is mostly fluff, however, and touchiefeelie.  Alcentric.


This Green Hill

If we could stay just like this . . . I'd never be happier." Al leaned his head in the crook of Ed's shoulder and wrapped his arms around his torso, clasping his wrist on the other side.

"Oh, Al, what are you doing?" he laughed happily, falling back and leaning his free hand on the grass.

"I'll never let you go, Niisan." He squeezed his eyes shut tight. "Never again, Niisan! I'll never let you go again!"

"Al!" Ed laughed at the lump clinging to his body. "First thing you do with a new body is _cry_ with it? What's wrong with _you_?"

"Shut up, Niisan," Al scolded, tightening his grip, but totally consumed by the sensation of being buried in clothes that hit against hard flesh, and the ability to squeeze his brother's sides together between his own flesh-and-blood arms. He was different than their mother—she was softer, but not nearly as warm—but he was good enough. There was a bond between them that was stronger than his memories, as they sat upon this green hill, that went into his very soul and would last and grow for all of time.

He hunched his shoulders a little. Ed would never know what he was talking about; he just didn't get it. Al had felt it happen when he was younger, even without a body, at fourteen or fifteen, and with a body now it only hit him harder, made him ache further. He had found the way he had looked at his brother turn into something more; be something warm and fuzzy and even airy when he was around him.

Which he was, all the time.

And even when he wasn't, those rare occasions when he was alone at night, he thought of him, in ways he knew would not be acceptable to other people. But he didn't care; his brother was his savior, his mentor, the idol that taught him everything he knew, and he would never let him go. He couldn't. He would die if he was ever apart from him; he could feel it.

Here, he didn't want to be independent; he wanted to be one with him, absorb into his being so he could at once both protect and be protected.

Al squeezed Ed's lean body tighter, burying his head in his clothes with a tiny cry.

"What is it, Al?" he wondered in concern, leaning back and stroking his brother's hair softly. "Do you feel sick?"

Al shook his head. He wanted to protect his brother, return all that he did for him, the support and happiness he gave him just by being there, just by breathing, but . . . it was like he was having to live a lie to the outside world; he was always having to second guess his behavior, because of them...

Edward knew it, even if he didn't _really _know it, or—he never let himself think it—didn't _want _to know it, but, he felt he had to hide his feelings in front of others—could they see it on his face? In his eyes? Could they see it in the way he looked, the way he stood; could they see those feelings he knew _they_ wouldn't approve of?

He knew what they would say, could imagine what they would do, but the truth was that they wouldn't understand. He knew that innately. They might split them up, take him away, hide Ed from his "obsession," or "misdirection," as they might call it, and hide _him_, shut him away from the world to try and either reorient him or just, well—just do what he was doing, and try to figure it out. . . .

He clutched Ed tighter. It was a horrible pain he was living with, the idea—the idea that, that _maybe _. . . maybe he was just insane somehow, and he should leave Ed so that Ed couldn't get hurt—

But—no—

He'd thought about it many times, ardently, inescapably, and he decided that if he were able to have these feelings, in a human body all his own—was it because of this body? Did Ed make something wrong? Did something wrong happen, or did he have this seed all his life that only blossomed now, when he could understand its full implications?— they must be _right;_ they couldn't be labeled _"wrong."__Besides_, he thought quietly, _if Brother made my body this way, this is the way I'll be. . . ._

_And I'm not hurting anybody._

On the contrary. The idea he finally caught and held upon was that he had a gift that so many other people weren't close enough to another person—weren't _alive _enough—to be able to experience. It was _they_ who didn't understand them. He wasn't _in love_ with his brother, he just . . . _loved _him, more than normal people did, and that was something he wasn't about to forbid himself, or Ed. Their relationship was so much deeper than other people could imagine, and it made him feel . . . so . . . well, _everything_.

But that wasn't the point at all, what it made _him_ feel! The point was that now, _now,_ he could finally be what his brother needed him to be, and that was all that mattered. His brother was very fragile, somewhere deep inside,inside that core of his, and being alone was the thing he feared the most. If he was lost, he would walk, so long as there was someone there to walk back to. And that was all that mattered—giving him someone to walk back to.

He didn't know where this road would lead him, now, where this road would go . . . but he didn't really need to. He would do whatever his brother needed him to do, as it had always been, no matter where it went, because—he had to concede it to himself: because there were things out there they hadn't seen, as hard as it could be for some to believe, and they had always done everything together.

He sighed with a futile smile. No, they didn't understand, but they didn't need to, either. This was their world, what in this light they could somehow control. And as he felt the whispering sun warm his face, he held true all his convictions: It was his turn to protect his brother, this life, and he would do it, no matter what.

_I would die for you, brother._

"Niisan, I'm going to do whatever I want with my body, and you're not going to stop me."

Ed chuckled once, feeling a bit light-headed himself, and then repositioned Al's weight so that he could bend over him with his fingers intertwined at the top of his back. Quietly, he kissed the top of Al's head, and began to rock back and forth as he laid his flushed cheek on the dirty-blond locks. "You do whatever you want, Al, and I will be there to back you up." His hands tightened, and his voice croaked. "I'll protect you; I promise."

"No, Niisan," he decided suddenly, turning and looking up into his depthless golden eyes. "It's time I protected you. You've given so much up for me without anything ever being returned—It's time you let me do things for _you."_

Ed laughed, his beautiful eyes glittering and his face crinkling with happy wrinkles before he gave Al's forehead a long kiss and then pulled back and looked into his eyes somberly. "We look out for each other, Al. Just like we always did."

Al watched him closely. Ed had never seen other people kiss like he had run across from time to time. He didn't know what people would see it as, but he knew that one day, he'd gotten the urge to do it, and now he did it, because it gave him such a good reaction from Al, he did it; he knew it put them so close together like nothing else he could do.

_Only—_

_He never kisses me when he's happy. Only when he's sad—worried or in pain, and this time is no different._

Al pursed his lips unconsciously as he watched Ed's eyes dully fix somewhere over his shoulder. The boy was remembering something. Al sighed unhappily and put his head flat against his brother's chest. "Protect me, then, Niisan."

Ed was silent for a moment, until he came out of his reverie with a start. He held a pang of sadness for a second longer, then smiled, curving his stomach away from Al. "C'mon, Al, don't be like that! I protect you, you protect me, we make sure the girls don't carry you away. . . . It's all mom ever wanted for us—" he swallowed hard, a bit unsure of the hold of the overwhelming sentiment, ". . . .And it's all I want, too. . . ."

His voice broke off just in time, and Edward found himself choking off tears.

"Niisan—_ugk!_"

At the sound of Al's voice, Edward broke apart and grabbed the back of Al's head and kissed him wherever his lips landed, then crushed him close with all the pent-up hope he'd ever had, shaking and crying into his shoulder. "Al, I—I . . ."

Al, previously shocked stiff, suddenly returned to life, and put his soft palm flat against Ed's shoulder blade. "No, Niisan. There's no need to explain it to me. I understand." He closed his eyes, feeling a strange elation in holding him like this. "I'll protect you, remember?"

Ed pulled back like a bolt and stared at his kind smile, his tear-streaked face red and splotchy. _OH, Niisan,_ that smile said.

"_Don't look at me!"_ he cried, bursting into tears and practically breaking Al's spine as he returned to hunching over him.

"_Brother, I don't think I can!"_ he assured quickly, clawing into Edward's arm. "Please let me go—I can't breathe!"

Ed pushed him back and fell into the ground with him. "It's all mom ever wanted, Al," he repeated, a fat tear of his dropping onto Al's cheek as he studied his slightly blank face from his higher vantage point on hands and knees. He watched his surprised expression for just a split second before his face contorted back into tears. "And now we have it back."

He buried his hot face into Al's gentle shoulder, unable to hold it back any longer, from all those long years of waiting, even _if_ he didn't want Al to see it; it was the only thing he could do.

Al sighed and cupped the back of Ed's head with his palm, watching the clouds go by in that infinite, blue sky.

No, no one understood them, but it didn't matter. It didn't matter what they thought; he was with him, and he would be, forever. That was what mattered, for all of time, because when he was with his brother, they could both see the beautiful light of day that shown like the light of life itself.

Alphonse's soft brown eyes slid closed for a moment as he rocked slightly and cooed reassurances to his brother, full of hope and love. "I love you, Niisan," he sighed happily, if a little sleepily, stroking his fingers through Ed's golden hair onto his scalp. It may have really scared him, the first time this happened, but now, now was like nothing at all—Like this, Alphonse knew that even if the sun were to never rise tomorrow, he'd hold him tight and they'd be together, and when Ed would remember this moment, full of strength and assured again, he'd concede and a little sheepishly curl up and fall asleep against his chest, his liquidity.

But this time, he did something different. He pulled his arms up against his chest and whispered just so softly, "Thank you, Al, but your life is enough to repay me."


End file.
